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Should I shave my head?

Something New

As you've all most probably noticed, I don't really have my heart in this blog much anymore. I originally started it as a way to track my progress from starting over to going somewhere. I am finally at the somewhere I should be. Yet most of my posts have a negative tint to them. The thing is, I'm actually quite happy in real life.

So I started something new, an electronic part to my visual journal. A new journey, if you will. Come with me on this ship called rrn17...

And Why Both At The Same Time

Why. Why is it so hard to just let go. Why does this have to be good and bad, at once. Why so charming, caring, why so endearing; why so unnerving and so egotistical. Why so cute and funny, why so smart and witty.

Why me. Why do you want to be around me. How do you manage to bring back to life my inner demons.

Why do I have to feel lost everytime I see you.

And This, This Is What I Don't Want

I'm feeling good. I'm feeling fine. I've been stable for a while now, or at least for a few weeks in a row. I'm starting to feel self-confidence in situations where I'd normally crawl under the table to hide. I've come to terms with the fact that, yes, indeed, I get really sensitive when it comes to matters of the heart. I've accepted that people have their own personal history, their past. That that past can be really simple, extremely convoluted or lying somewhere in between those poles.

It's nice you said hello again, I appreciate you wanting to see me again. Hell, it was wonderful to kiss you, to smell your skin and lay in bed with you a few times more. But this is what I don't want.

I don't want to wait for someone, for I've done more than my share of waiting with my heart out. I don't want to not know where I'm heading, to always have in the back of my mind that I might just be a nice little distraction. I don't want to not have the right to fall in love. I don't want to be part of a nice zoo of former frequentations and I certainly don't want to be in the same room as them while they talk about how good you were in bed. I don't want calculations and control in relationships. I don't want to have to explain to which school of thought I adhere when it comes to matters of love and sex. I don't want to miss you knowing you most probably don't miss me. I don't want to feel wrong in missing you. I don't want to me mistrustful or freakish. I don't want to have it said that if it all got messed up in the first place it was all my fault. I don't want to stick around, I just don't.

I don't want to get attached to you again. Oh no, I don't.

So this is it, really. Thanks for the plant. It was a gorgeous gift, on that I will cherish, trust me. Thanks for kissing me on my neck as I was brushing my teeth, it was a lovely thing to do. Thanks for hugging me and making me laugh.

Take care, ok?

Sweep Me Off My Feet

12 hours

"-Oli?
-Yeah?
-I'm headin' to the depanneur for food and cigarettes, but I called for dope. So if it gets here before I'm back, would ya get me three bags of the stuff? I'll put the money here.
-Uh...
-Well, ya know, wouldn't wanna miss the dope. Anyhoo, it most probably won't arrive while I'm gone.
-Uh, yeah..."

12 hours to go... 12 hours to go... 12 hours to go

48 hours

Last night, I was sitting in my room, playing Brain Age on Nintendo DS. I was doing the speed counting test. For that thing, you have to count numbers aloud from 0 to 120, as fast as you can. While I was doing that, my roommate comes in my room and starts knocking frantically on my door (he was already in the room while knocking on the door, which is backwards, if you ask me).

He starts asking me if I'm fine, si je suis tout à moi ("if I'm all to myself", which basically means if I'm still in touch with reality). I responded saying yes, that I was counting because I was playing a game. He gave me the usual "yeah, right" kinda look and walked away.

For the rest of the evening, the dude kept avoiding me, gave me weirdo looks and made comments as to my "apparently departing sanity".

I move out in 48 hours. Thank god.

Faque là, c'est qui le crotté?

This is my month review:

The job at the photo studio didn't work out nicely, for various reasons. So I quit it. And I went back to jobhunting and found a job less than a week after quitting. The new job is really nice. It makes me feel like I'm doing something useful.

In a week, I'm moving out. I'm moving out of this stinky, gloomy place and moving in to a luminous, spacious apartment. I'll be leaving my perma-stoned roommate and his twisted stories and constant pain of living. I'll be leaving this apartment that has filth just about everywhere, that's painted in such dark colours that no light can actually shine in it. I'll be leaving this cloud of darkness. Finally.

The mood swings came back. Back with a vengeance. They also brought the menace of relapse with them. I lost focus, became very irritable, wanted to sleep all the time, wanted to eat all the time, ideas of death kept popping up in my head and it culminated with the return of the "crawlings in my head" feeling. I resorted to taking my doctor's advice, which he had given me when I last saw him. That advice was to start taking the meds again should I feel that I was going back downhill. So here we go, I'm back to taking medication. But if that's the price to pay to feel fine, then I'm willing to pay it. I've seen enough darkness to last me a lifetime.

I've been toying with songwriting. I even managed to put together something half-coherent, which in itself is quite something. I'm in love with the guitar. L. O. V. E. I hope to get really proficient on it quickly. At least I'm practicing tons, which is bound to make a difference in the end. Practice makes perfect, so they say.

Also, je dois spécifier (sur demande spéciale, bien sur) que Renato est un bon ami car il discute avec moi en trois langues afin de me rendre heureux. Voilà.

If You Think About Someone...

...do they think about you too?

If you miss someone...
...do they miss you too?

Beautiful Emotions

I laugh a lot.
I cry a little, here and there.
I experience moments of sadness (exactly like how i'm feeling right now).
I feel elated every now and then.
I get ideas and work on them.
I fall, dust myself off and start over and again.
There are mornings when I feel completely lost.
Other mornings when I'm really in control and on top of things.
There are days when I believe I can feel the whole world.
There are moments in my life when I get to know other people and want to share my life with them.
And then it works out.
Or it doesn't work out.
There's no way of knowing what will happen, but the good always overrides the bad.

Forward, always forward.

Springtime... of course

If we were still living at the Villa, I'd be lying in Anne-Marie's bed right now, talking about what just happened. She'd give me her love advice, as she rules in that department (and in many others, but it derogates from the topic of this post). But sadly the time of the Villa is behind and so here I am, in this room that I will finally get to move out of in a bit more than a month, drinking and typing away.

People cross your path and you happen to cross theirs. Things happen, you begin to glow, you get to know the person, butterflies form in your very insides. Time constantly flies and so you see the person more and more and more. You laugh like you haven't laughed in a long time.

But then, for some odd reason, you sometimes turn into a person you are not. You freak out in various things to then realise how trivial they were. Reflecting on it you realise that it probably pertains to something past that hasn't been completely resolved. You decide that you will control those moments so they don't happen again. You decide you'll figure it out, you'll figure yourself out.

Then things get odd. You see the person less. You start to realise you are falling for the person but you also realise how far apart you two are.

Then it goes further until you finally understand that it has to end. It has to end because you love the person, it has to end because of various differences that wouldn't make for a lasting relationship, because you both are so far apart. You tell the person, the person hugs you and keeps you close. Then you leave. The person says: "talk to you later". You walk out the door.

And so it goes. Old jazzmen were right, Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most.

Or Perhaps Not

I might just be wrong...

Which brings me to this question that hasn't yet found an answer: why is it that I always imagine the end is coming if a situation confuses me a bit? why do I have to want to run away when things get difficult?

Sensing The End

When I saw him last night, I realised that I had missed him. At the same time, when we parted, I felt that the end of this affair was near.

It's not that I'm surprised, because I had sensed it early on. Wishing that it would be something grand and lasting but knowing deep down that it would only be a passing thing, a late rebound, a crash course in relationships.

Perhaps I'm wrong, it might be my sleepless mind making this all up. However, I doubt it strongly...

There's nothing else to do but to wait and see now.

What I've Been Up To

I've understood a lot of things in the past month or so. A lot of things about life, about myself, about others. About the way I relate to people and just how different I view things if my heart happens to be involved.

I've been rollercoastery all month, but good was always overriding the bad. Everytime I felt sad or weird or freaked out or simply bizarre, it always lead to some form of understanding of things...

Early this week, I was taken by this crazy state of anxiety and panic. It followed me through until yesterday, when it peaked. After I was done my shoot in capture class, I went back to my place and crashed into bed. The feeling of falling into a void was back. I slept for two hours and woke up at 3pm. I had dreamt a weird dream about alarms ringing somewhere in town and me hovering around the buildings. Then I went to get the haircut. It all became clear during the haircut. What had been making me anxious, what had been bringing me down, what was rendering me sad. It felt like walking out of a puddle of sticky gelly. I got the feeling that I could breathe again, for the first time in days.

I really feel like I've grown this past month. This might just be the beginning of newfound self-confidence...

It's On

I wrote the last post of this blog in the morning, before going to my classes. During the class, I peak over to my mobile phone and notice that I've missed a call. The number is one I don't recognise. I had a voicemail message. It was the studio where I had been interviewed the week before. The woman on the phone had a sunny voice, asking me to call her back. I called back and got the news that they were hiring me!

Say hello to assistant-photographer Oli!

I begin the new adventure next week...

Turnarounds

I haven't moved out finally. Once the dust had settled, I realised that I can make it through. I don't have to let myself absord someone else's emotions and feelings. They only hold power over me if I allow them to. Realising that made a massive difference.

Before deciding against moving out, I visited a place where they rent rooms. The rent was the same amount of money as what I'm paying here, it's rather well located, etc. So I booked an appointment and went. First thing the woman I was meeting for the visit said was: "JESUS!! You're tall!!" and then laughed a great laugh. I only understood why she had made the tallness comment a while later.

Once arrived at the place, it didn't take me really long to notive that the ceilings were less than 6 foot high. I visited the place nonetheless and decided against renting it.

-----

During the same period, Emilie and I were also searching for an apartment, as we're moving in together in July. We had done some looking, scouting neighbourhoods, scanning papers, nothing really came of it. Until March the 23rd, when I went to her place after class. We started scanning the papers and found an ad that seemed very interesting. We called, visited the place the same night. We completely fell in love with the place so without further thinking about it, we filled-in the application documents. They were to call us within five days to notify us whether we were approved for renting the place or not. I got a call the day before my birthday, telling me that we were approved.

This apartment is really gorgeous. High ceiling, white textured walls, woodworks all throughout. The room I called shotgun on is quite big, has a gorgeous three-piece window and has a fireplace (which doesn't work nowadays, but still, FIREPLACE!!)

-----

I've met someone. Or rather, someone met me. A bit more than a week ago. It was a customer from my store. Someone I had helped around the store last fall and that had made quite an impression on me. Turns out I had made quite an impression on him as well. He came back to the store on a saturday. I helped him around the store again, we talked for over 20 minutes about various things. As he and his friends were just lingering in the store, I decided to give them each a little something. They were still in the store minutes after I had given the thing so I decided to just go straight up to him and introduce myself. Which I did. After that, he and his friend went to pay and they proceeded to thank the store, but not before he thanked me for the chat and left the store. I had hoped that he would ask me out for coffee or give me his phone number, but it didn't happen.

A bit later during the day, I was doing something in the store window and the guy walks back in the store. Alone, this time. He came back to ask me out for coffee later that evening.

Coffee became a beer, then dinner, then a walk and then coffee. An amazing, wonderful evening. And we've seen quite a bit of the other since that saturday. It's going well, very very well.

-----

Last week, I got a call from a photo studio where I had applied for a photographer's assistant job. They pre-interviewed me by phone and scheduled me for a real, live interview at the studio the next day. They asked me to put together a portfolio. That gave me less than 24 hours to prepare something. I managed to whip up something fairly satisfying.

The interview didn't go super well. They seemed really cold. At first, I was only being interviewd by one woman, but then, just as I started feeling a bit more comfortable, another woman came in. The kind of woman who could be either incredibly nice or unbearably mean, but that you can't tell right off the bat which she happens to be. Their questionning was very strict and intricate. They even asked me, out of the blue, to pretend one of the woman was a 1 year old toddler crying and try to have the toddler stop crying.

I very much doubt I impressed them. Anyways, they said that were I to be selected, I'd hear from them sometime before this friday and they made it really clear that if I were not selected, I WOULDN'T hear from them.

I'm not feeling bummed either way. If I get it, then it'll be a new adventure. If I don't, then it just plain means that there's something a whole lot better just waiting out there. So I'm confident.

My life is looking good right about now, I must say.

The Last Straw

I've had it. I have to move out and find another job ASAP. Today was the last straw...

I thought I could endure this bad roommate/boss situation but I can't. The man is sucking the energy and the creativity out of me. It dawned on me that it's only when I am here that I feel worthless and lose all interest in doing anything. When I visit my friends, when I go home, when I'm working on projects at school I feel fine. As soon as I walk in the apartment and he's there, all will to fight leaves my body.

Also, I can't bear this job situation anymore. The man oscillates between moments of treating me like crap, scrutinizing everything I do to find the flaw, saying mean comments in front of the rest of the staff and moments of thanking me for all I do, thanking me for being so understanding and caring for the rest of the staff. Everytime someone is sick and I can replace them, I do it. Everytime I can do anything to help, I do it.

And yet, today, I simply asked to get the day of my birthday off work. He made me feel like shit for asking so, telling me how I would put them all in a really bad situation, etc etc etc. After that, he called me back saying that he'd try very hard to find a replacement, even if it meant him working more days than usual in a row. BIG FUCKING DEAL! Whenever he has a headache or some ailment and asks me to cover his shift, I do it. But when I'm REALLY not feeling well, I always have to work because it's impossible to find someone to replace me.

I was so frustrated that I broke down in front of one of my friends/classmates. She picked me up and made me see things clearer. That's when I realised everything that was going on. The manipulation, the energy-sucking, the sheer fact that he imposes his sadness and anger on everyone in the vicinity and that, through living with him and being the one he loves but isn't loving him back, I am getting the bulk of the crap.

So it's time for me to move out. And find another job. I had started searching for a job already and today, I started looking for a room to rent until I move in with my friends in July...

Such drama, as always. It seems that my life always turns out to be a soap opera...

I Am Not Sleeping

I am not sleeping. I do realise that that's implied because I would not be writing this thing had I been asleep at the moment. I had gone to bed a bit after midnight expecting a nice night of sleep when my upstairs neighbours decided to entertain their already loud enough guests with techno music. I had managed to get a nice point of focus and was on the verge of finding sleep when someone started yelling and chanting (yes, chanting) in the street, most probably right under my window. Have not sensed impending sleep since.

I have started reading Bridget Jones's Diary, on suggestion of a friend. I had mentionned over drinks one night that I was beginning to think that my life would resemble that of Miss Jones (just the general life idea, I'm not implying that I intend to become a woman) by the time I hit thirty-five, to which my friend replied: "have you read the book?" I confessed that I had only seen the movie. She urged me to go buy it, as it's very different from and much better than the movie. A few weeks passed and then we went for drinks again, this time joined by another friend who was experiencing emotional turmoil of herself. Bridget Jones came on topic again and that second friend decided to get to reading it too. The next day, after work, we both went to Chapters to get a copy. A week after buying it I am halfway through. It really IS much better than the movie. Makes me realise that I want to read more novels in english. I figure it's probably the only way I'll improve my written english.

-----

My birthday is in a week. I'm excited. I don't exactly know why, but there's a christmasy feeling to my birthday this year. As if something marvelous was about to happen. Something big...

Reconciliated

When I start to lose focus about why I study photography, it's usually because I haven't taken pictures in a while.

Yesterday morning, I went to capture class completely demotivated and feeling photographically worthless. Theory period went by and then came the time for capture. 15 minutes in my capture session and my faith in the field was completely restored. I felt really zen during shooting and that's when I realised that I need photography in my life. It synchronises me with the world, with my very own world.

Also, last week I started slipping as far as school work was concerned. The moment I noticed it, I started tackling the beast one assignment at a time. It proved to be beneficial because as of today, I am up to date everywhere.

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For the past month, I've been bumping into people I haven't seen in a rather long time. Mostly, it was people with whom communication stopped abruptly, the history just cutting out at a single, sharp point in time.

First occurrence: I was coming back to my apartment from a little evening soirée with a friend of mine. As we were walking down the street and talking and laughing, I turn around to see a man walking towards his car. At first, I think: "Hmmm, this face seems strangely familiar". Then I turned around and recognized who it was. He turned around at the same moment, saw me and then looked down really quickly and tried to unlock his car as best he could. I kept on walking.

Second occurrence: I went for beer with a friend after work (oddly enough, same friend as above). We went to this little bar thingie on Saint-Laurent. Drank and talked about life, sex and guys. The last topic of our conversation was a former friend of mine. Someone with whom communication stopped abruptly after really confusing happenings. He had been on my mind for some days prior to that. We left the bar, she went her way and I proceeded to walk back to my apartment. As I was crossing a street, I see someone from afar and think: "hmmm, this face seems familiar". Walking closer, I notice that not only it seems familiar but it happens to be THE guy I was talking about. He looked straight in my eyes and stared for a couple of seconds. He was with someone. I didn't say anything, he stopped staring, started talking louder and walked past me.

Third, fourth and fifth occurrence: I was one of the last people to leave colour theory class, last monday. I left class at six. I went to drop things in my locker (that happens to be in the photo department. I could have taken another locker, downstairs, but I figured that one locker was enough for me) and pick up my winter jacket. As I was walking to the bathroom, I had a flash: "Of course, I'm going to the bathroom, I'll wash my hands, get out of the bathroom, drink water from the fountain and I'll turn around to bump into G." Damn my intuition to hell, I was right. When I realised that YES, it was him, my heart stopped and then started beating faster and in an erratic fashion. I almost threw myself down the escalator to avoid having to stay close.
The next day, I was leaving phototech class with a few of my classmates. We were going down the escalators. Reaching the 6th floor (photo dept), I wished them all a good evening and went to my locker. As I got into the department, I turn around to see G again, standing in the doorway of one of the studios. I walked faster to my locker, trying. When I passed there again, he had gone. It took me a good 5 minutes to get back to a regular heart rythmn.
Thursday was capture class (see above). After the capture, I was bringing the lighting cart back to the depot. Just as I stepped out of the studio, I saw him again, reading notices on the billboard. I just played dumb and went to the depot. Later that day, I had to go and complete a calibration assignment. So I went to the depot again to have the calibration room unlocked. G was at the depot too. He needed to have access to the repro room. The two rooms are interconnected. A few of my classmates were doing their calibration too, so we all stayed there and chatted for a bit while one by one, each of us took the calibration pictures. After a bit of waiting and feeling ultra ackward, I went in the repro room and sat next to G. He had that puzzled look in his eyes. I said hello, he greeted back. Then I said: "How about if we made peace?" To which he agreed and shook my hand, all the while avoiding to look at me.

I wonder who I'll bump into next, although if the pattern keeps on going the way it is, I already know who it'll be.

The Reason Why

It's starting to be almost a ritual. A few weeks before midterm, I hit a point where I have no idea why I'm doing this. I don't know why I'm studying photography. I don't know what I want to shoot or why I would be shooting it.

I'm demotivated by the way the program is structured. I spend more time working on projects for mandatory art classes (colour theory, for instance) than I would for my photography. We are not allowed access to printing in the lab (which is only electronic, as we have not yet shot a single sheet of film) outside of our class periods. If we want to access said lab, we have to make sure that no class is being tought in the room. The current lab is shared with students of many other programs, which means that the screens are very often decalibrated when we get to work. There ARE dedicated digital photo labs, however we will not gain access to them until the second year. In shooting class, we are doing studio work this term. However, since there are too many students for the available studio spots, we only shoot two weeks out of three.

Now, I know that many of those annoyances are caused by the way the CEGEP system works. But why is there only ONE option for studying photo in university, it being studying studio arts with a major in photography and that course being offered in only ONE of the universities in Quebec? Why is there no real other way to study professional photo other than in CEGEP? Why is it that very few of the photographers from Quebec that I admire actually studied photo in CEGEP? Is it that the path is flawed? Is it that the path to photography isn't actually through school but that the schooling will give us the tools to actually forge our own path?

I have to admit that I don't understand how I'll be a photographer. In a bit more than two years, I'm supposed to come out of school ready to tackle the world with my shutter skills but why does it seem so distant and unclear?

One thing's for certain, I must not give up. I have done that way too many times. Even if doubt has set in, I just have to push myself forward and work harder, but I must not abandon. I'll probably get the answers to my questions in time.

Sometimes

I realise that sometimes I have very little to say. It's very much ironic, as from what my mother told me, as a child I never ever would shut up. Only when I went to sleep would I bathe in total silence. Also, up until not very long ago I had a complete intolerence to silence. It would drive me completely nuts. As a kid, if there was a power outage leaving the house noise-less, I would become frightened and start screaming.

Nowadays, though, it's a completely different matter. Some days, I will only communicate when it's really needed, otherwise I'll stay in my little bubble. This applies to a lot of things.

I haven't written any poetry in a while. I used to be able to find topics quite easily and would scribble down things here and there. Now, it seems I'm unable to do that. I have lost the way of the word, or so I feel. However, I was told by my former writing teacher that those dry spells are part of what writing is and that you just have to live them through. It's still a bit crazy because when that dryness hits, nothing can make me believe that I'll never be able to write another word again.

A good example of this drought: yesterday, I spent the whole day playing guitar. I ended up finding four chords that worked really well together and that fit the moment I was bathing in. I tried singing things, but nothing worked. I couldn't find the exact topic and the exact phrasing to go along with that feeling. Thing is, I have a lot of topics to sing about, messages that I would like to put down and send across. I wrote down the chords and left the song in embryo to it's current state. Bare skeleton, no melody, no words...

It's all frustrating though, as I formerly studied writing in college.

Poseurs and Narcissists: Give Up!

Every field has their share of poseurs. Photography is no exception...

In my class, there are quite a few of those. Out of all those fakes, one really gets to me. Last term, he only was in my lab class. This term, the dude happens to be in my phototech class and colour theory class. Everybody seems to think he's a really nice, charming dude. They don't really notice how condecending he actually is. When he says things, there's always an underlying layer of supposed superiorety intricately linked to his message. He will chat you up, but only to show his "knowledge". Also, the man is a fan of analog photography (nothing wrong with that), but likes to tell everybody else how HE has done photography the old, hard way and how, because of that, he is better then the whole population of photostudents combined. Last term, in lab class, he would always do his best to show everyone his work (again, nothing wrong with that per se), but using vile, manipulative means. He would befriend other students who can't question his attitude (as they have just started in photography) and lavish them with his thoughts on the history of photography, on how B+W photography can only be respectfully accomplished using the means of our ancestors, etc. Every time a teacher would say something related to film photography, he always makes a noise and grins and nods his head in content. That was his last term technique.

Now, this term, all of our groups are mixed up. So some of the minions of his original group happen to be in many of the classes I happen to be in. Last week, in studio class, we were working on personal stuff. When he passed by the studio and saw that the theory was over, he came in and found some of his colleagues to begin a chat. He was speaking loudly. He filled the room with his sentences, talking about how HE is getting so many contracts that he can't handle them, how HE is forced to lie about his age in order to get the contracts, as employers would think that someone his age simply could not be bestowed so much talent. I wasn't near him at all when he made that speech. I was busy experimenting with flasheads, minding my own business. Yet, I overheard his whole discourse. The whole ordeal turned my blood.

I've recognised quite a few months ago that this guy irks me. But after that class, I felt a bit down. I started questioning myself, my work and what I want to do later (mind you, I had had terrible sleep the night prior so I was overly sensitive that day). With much reflection, I realised that all that boy is doing, in actuality, is blowing smoke up the photo dept.'s ass. He NEEDS to feel superior, to feel important. I read something regarding that matter in the Tao-tö king a while ago and it came back to me that day:

XXIV
He who stands up tiptoeing
will not stand upwards for long.
He who walks in long strides
will not go very far.
He who shows exhibition will not glow.
He who affirms himself will not impose himself.
He who brings himself to glory will not have his merits recognised.
He who excites himself will not become a king.

That's when I realised that I don't need to feel bothered by the poseur's speech. I do not need that pretense. I need to know my own value and work with it. I need to know where I'm lacking and work on it. I do not need to bolster my supposed "special talents and gifts". I came to where I am now with work and will continue to do so. I just perhaps need to work on my self-confidence a bit...

See-Through Weather

I find that winter has a form of precision no other season has. There is a profound precision to be experienced in standing in the cold, on a winter day. Looking in the distance, things are as equally clear as they would be if you were standing right in front of them.

I was walking back home from work earlier tonight, while listening to Beady Belle's CEWBEAGGAPIC album. It's an electro-jazz record that I find to be best experienced at evening time, in the cold. Be it autumn, winter or spring, it needs to not be warm. I find it hard to express in words exactly how that record makes me feel and how synchronised it seems to be with this kind of weather. Like a natural soundtrack, it sings of love, love lost and regained, love by proxy.

My commute to get back to the manor is very different as to how it was to get back to the villa. To get back to the villa, I had to take the metro and then a bus OR take two different metro lines and then walk 15 minutes in a residential area. To get to the manor from work, I simply have to walk 25 minutes in a city setting. I was thinking, last night, on my way here that when walking amongst concrete buildings and skyscrapers, we really aren't much. Sure, we built all those things are, ultimately, the puppeteers that make them alive. In the end though, we are simply a bunch of little ants, lugging around things that are heavier than we, constructing buildings and machines that could, if given the chance, simply surpass and gain power over us.

A Bath And A Guitar

I took this long, relaxing bath tonight. I played Beth Orton's Central Reservation album as background music and soaked in for almost an hour. Thinking about things, putting things in order in my head.

When you stop taking antidepressants, you go through a withdrawal phase. It can be mild or it can be really severe and debilitating. I'm a lucky bastard, because I've only experienced mild ones. And I'm going through one right now. My brain feels like it's tilting every once and again. I have a fake cold, I'm feeling blue and melancholic, I have trouble sleeping. But really, it's not that bad. I know that it's only a matter of days until I get back on my feet.

I've been practicing the guitar a lot since I was lent one, last weekend. Almost two hours a day. I think I'm really, truly in love with that instrument. As much as I loved the piano, it always felt like something wasn't entirely right. I just might have found it now. If things keep going the way they are, I should be a fairly decent guitar player before summer comes. That would be perfect, really, as it might give me the opportunity to finally compose and organise all those latent songs and sounds that are constantly lying in my head.

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Last week, my roommate confessed to falling for me. This is truly problematic. Not only is that man my roommate, he also happens to be my boss. Also, he knows that as much as I find him to be a great person and I do enjoy living with him, the feeling is not mutual. I truly hope that he'll grow out of his infatuation soon.

This almost seem like a weird shift of some karmic force. I have often been on the giving end of unrequited love in the past. But ever since the end of this summer, I find myself on the receiving end of love that I just cannot reciprocate. I guess this is nature's way of letting me know how it feels to have someone fall for you and you finding yourself just not loving that person.

Off The Meds

I am now, officially, off antidepressants. This might seem like a mundane fact, something not really worth a blog entry. However, to me, it's something of importance.

I've been taking them for over 6 months now. My doctor told me that I could stop taking my medication as soon as january started, but to wait until I felt comfortable enough to do so. I decided this week that I was ready.

Knowing that I am not taking yellow pills daily makes me really happy. I had been without medication for two years before last spring's relapse. How long will I be fine this time? One year, five years, twenty-five? To be honest, I don't really care. If I've learned anything about that this time, it's that it doesn't matter. The important thing is that I am fine and well. If it takes a yellow pill for it, then so be it. If not, then all the better!

But this is a victory over my personal demons. I am tiger, hear me roar. :D

The Updator

I'm fully settled into my new dwelling. I even, after three weeks, found a name for it: SoftCore Manor. I'm actually glad to have chosen to stay here. It's nice being this close to everything. Also, this "gayvillage" factor that I was fearing is turning out to be entertaining. Now I see all kinds of gay guys and I get a precious reminder of the kind of gay I am glad I am not.

I've finally got my library subscription. The Bibliothèque Nationale is only 5 minutes away from the manor. I've been going there a lot lately. It's almost high-inducing to have so many documents available at once.

School starts again in ten days. I'm really looking forward to it. Having a 6 weeks (almost 7!) holiday vacation is just WAY too much for someone like me (i.e. someone who doesn't deal so well with free time).

And that's about it for news from the Oli front. I should be back to my (semi) regular blogging habits now.